Rules Are Made to be Broken
by frankybadass
Summary: Quinn and Santana both have their own set of rules when it comes to attaching themselves to people. But then Schue's wedding happens and they have sex and something feels different. But are either of them willing to admit it? ONESHOT.


**Title: **Rules Are Made to be Broken

**Author: **frankybadass

**Pairing (s): **Santana/Quinn. Mentions of Quinn/Puck, Quinn/Finn, Santana/Brittany, and Brittany/Sam.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters, nor do I own any restaurants, food products, music, etc. that may be mentioned.

**Summary: **Quinn says no to anyone who wants her; Santana says yes, but then no. Losing the custody battle with Beth had made Quinn feel cold. And Santana, well, she likes to use the ones she is with and then throw them away because it makes her feel better after losing Brittany. Then Schue's wedding happens and Quinn and Santana have sex and something inside of them both feels different. But will they admit it?

* * *

This was _not_ supposed to happen. Quinn Fabray didn't feel things, not anymore. Forever alone, that is her motto because that is what she has chosen. She _could_ choose to be with someone. She is wanted, she knows she is, but she does not allow herself to return the want. Or at least, she forces herself to believe that she _can't _want or feel or _need_. Because people hurt you and they abandon you and why would she want that?

So, this, _this_, is a disaster. Her and Santana, it's all wrong. It does not make sense, not logical sense (not in her mind, at least), why she cannot stop thinking about her, why she wants to run back into that room and kiss her again. Make love to her again.

She shakes her head. No, not make love - that isn't what they did. They screwed. Fucked. She cringes at the word. She hates curse words, always has, but she has to think that way because love, it is a word that bruises. It does more harm than curse words.

What took place between her and Santana merely moments before (_twice) _was a mistake. She has to keep telling herself that because it is true. It cannot happen again. A two-time thing. She said it and she means it.

So maybe she possibly is bi-curious or maybe even bisexual (after all, Santana is not the first girl she has kissed, not that she feels the need to get into her previous experiences with the same sex), but that does not mean she wants to run back into the room and repeat her mistake a third time.

Quinn likes to say no. It is something she has taught herself to do ever since losing the custody battle over _her_, the little girl she gave away because she thought she couldn't handle being a mother. How could she have? She was so young, but she was stupid to think that she could get back the rights she had signed away that day at the hospital.

Still, that day broke her. After that, everything she had ever failed in had come back to haunt her; her failed relationship with Finn, the way she had used him so cruelly and unnecessarily and the way she had hurt Puck over and over again thinking that he was the one to blame even though she knew and still knows that she has always been the one to blame.

Everything that she has ever touched has turned to dust. She is a parasite, a disease, the black plague. It is better to detach herself from people so that they do not hurt her and she does not have the chance to ruin them like she has ruined everything and anything good and beautiful in her life.

She knows Santana is tough. She has survived so much and she will continue to, but Quinn does not want to be just another something the Latina has to survive. She can't be that in Santana's life because even though the girl is often vicious and deceitful and altogether a seemingly horrible person, there is so much more to her and she is bettering herself and Quinn knows if she goes back to that room, if she tries to make more out of what happened between the two of them, she will stop that progress. She will be the ruins because she always is.

She hears footsteps and tenses, thinking that it is Santana, but she looks up and sees that it is just another drunk couple stumbling into a room together, and suddenly she is thinking again of everything that took place.

She swears that she can still feel Santana's fingers dancing along her exposed skin, leaving fire in their wake. She shivers as she recalls the open-mouthed kisses that started at her lips and ended with her naked and writhing in the greatest pleasure she had ever experienced with anyone, girl or boy, under her best friend.

A one-time thing is what she first called it, but the one-time thing turned into a two-time thing and would have turned into a third-time thing if she hadn't made up some lame excuse about having to refill the ice in the hotel room's freezer so that she could get the hell out of there.

So that she could run because running is what she does best.

She tells herself it has to stay that way. Absolutely has to.

But then she has thought that maybe it doesn't have to.

* * *

She fucked Quinn Fabray.

The mere thought causes Santana to cringe, not because of the act itself, but because of the way she thought it. For once, the word _fucking _feels too crass to her. It makes the act sound meaningless, like it doesn't matter, which should make sense, right? Because it _didn't _matter. It is not supposed to.

A one-time thing, Quinn had said. Santana realizes she should have left it at that, should have let Quinn go, but she had to go and suggest that it turn into a two-time thing.

She does not know why her eyes are beginning to fill with tears of frustration. She does not fucking cry. Not anymore, not since she and Brittany split and she realized she had lost the first girl she ever truly loved.

After learning of the goddamn Trouty Mouth fucking stealing Brittany out from underneath her feet and realizing that "Brittana" is fucking over and honestly has been from the minute she made the stupid goddamn decision to tell Britt that they needed to take a break, she promised herself to resort back to her old ways. Love 'em and leave 'em, that is her motto. Attachments are bad. Attachments lead to getting hurt and they lead to five empty ice cream containers and balled up tissues and puffy red eyes and a waterfall leaving your eyes.

Santana is not meant to attach to anyone, she accepts this, but sex is fun and she cannot give it up, not like Quinn had. Quinn is good at saying no because when she says yes, she does not know how to say no anymore, but Santana is a fucking pro at saying yes, fucking, and then forgetting.

Better yet, she is good at using people, at giving them a shot and making them think they can have more and then cruelly laughing in their faces when they ask for it. Once is enough.

Or sometimes twice, in Quinn's case.

Something is different now, though. She can feel it and that is a problem because sex does not involve feelings. She tells herself what she is feeling is guilt because she used her best and closest friend, but this is not what guilt feels like.

And that is when she realizes it, what she is feeling - _longing_. Not the lust kind of longing, but the longing for something she has not allowed herself to have since Brittany. The longing to let herself need someone again, but that's fucking retarded because longing is for pansy asses who let their emotions run their fucking lives.

Letting emotions run her is not how Santana Lopez gets things done. The walls she built are there for good reason and she made the mistake of letting someone knock them down once. It took her a while to rebuild them. She cannot let someone else get in, not ever again.

And though the thought that she can't let anyone in keeps running through her mind like an annoying broken record, her heart is aching with the need and the want that she has for Quinn to be laying next to her and for the girl to never leave her again because she felt when touching Quinn what she has not felt since Brittany.

Now, _that _is terrifying, but maybe, just maybe, opening her heart again won't be so bad. Maybe...

Her thought process is cut short as she hears the door open. She whips her head around immediately, hearing the bones in her neck crack just slightly because of how quickly she moved her head to look in the direction of the door. Her heart skips a beat (god, she hates how fucking girly and cliche that makes her sound, but _what the fuck_, she decides to not give a shit) when she sees Quinn.

She gulps, licks her lips. Her throat all of the sudden feels very dry and it is kind of really fucking annoying, but she ignores her nerves because she is Santana fucking Lopez and she is not supposed to get nervous.

"Hi," Quinn says quietly, almost shyly, as a piece of her blonde hair falls into her face. Santana's fingers twitch with the urge to tuck that stray strand of hair behind the girl's ear, but she stays rooted to the bed, afraid to move, unsure of why Quinn is even here when she seemed so eager to get away before.

"Thought you went to get ice," she mumbles bitterly. She is not stupid, far from it - Quinn never went for fucking ice, she wanted to run as far the fuck away from Santana and what happened between them as possible. Because if there is one thing they have in common it is that they both like to run away. Only they do so in very different ways.

"I lied." _No shit. _The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she bites them back because she thinks something might be about to happen and she is curious as to why Quinn is here and even though she knows it is dangerous and she shouldn't be doing it, she decides to say fuck it and allow herself to hope that Quinn is here to say that it can be a third-time thing and a fourth-time thing... and maybe a forever time thing.

"I-I run from things," Quinn starts with a slight tremor in her voice as she begins to inch closer to the bed. Santana gulps, her anticipation for whatever is coming next proving to be somewhat overwhelming in what is probably the best fucking way possible even though she can't fucking explain what that even means. "I say no to anyone who wants to get close to me. I push them all away and I do that because I have hurt everyone who has ever gotten close to me..." She pauses and Santana goes to stand up, to just shut her up with her mouth and whisper sweet nothings in her ear and then tell her that she is fucking insane for even thinking whatever it is she is about to say, but Quinn gestures for her to stay seated and so she does even though it isn't like her to actually listen.

But just this once, she thinks maybe she should because something is happening, she knows it and it is fucking terrifying as all get out, yet thrilling. And everyone who knows Santana knows that she gets off on the thrill of everything she does.

"And don't say I don't because it's true, I have. I've hurt a lot of people." "So have I," Santana cuts in quickly, only to be cut off just as quickly. "_Shut up." _Quinn is standing beside the bed now, looking down at the Latina, her hazel eyes burning with so much passion and desire and so many other emotions that it is proving to be pretty fucking dizzying. "I know you have. We both have. I have spent such a long time feeling like a disease, like everything I touch turns to ashes, but after walking away from you and thinking about it for a bit, I realized something... You're toxic, too."

The words sound harsh, but there is a slight twitch of Quinn's lips and Santana knows she does not mean them the way that it sounds. She is trying to be clever and though she wouldn't ever fucking dare admit it to Quinnie, it is actually working and kind of very sexy.

"What the fuck are you trying to say, Fabray?" she queries, her smirk matching the one Quinn is wearing.

Quinn's smirk widens considerably as she climbs onto the bed, slowly, tauntingly. Santana can't help it, she rolls her eyes out of habit, but she won't lie, she is finding herself definitely wanting a third round of their previous actions.

"Let's be toxic together," are the last words either of the girls speak because before Santana can even _think _of a witty retort for such a statement, Quinn's mouth is covering hers and she is kissing back and her mind is so fuzzy that all coherent thought is thrown out the window.

She knows this counts as breaking her rules, but as she continues to kiss the insanely beautiful and fucked up and delicate girl now lying underneath her, she realizes that she does not honestly fucking care.

Some rules truly are made to be broken.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I don't know what this is. Honestly, I _don't_. I'm simply trying to write a bit so I can eventually find the inspiration to continue with _Where Does It Hurt _and _Summer Heat_. It has been so long since I have written, really.

Read, review, do whatever. Just don't be a dick. Constructive Criticism is acceptable, but being an ignorant asshole is not.

On a lighter note, I'm extremely excited to have internet back and to be writing again. Expect more stuff soon-ish. 


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